


not my fault (don't blame it on me)

by MoMoMomma



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Demon Shane Madej, Demons, M/M, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: He’s free to eat his fill without his partner in crime being any the wiser. Though on nights like tonight...it’s difficult. Tests every strength he has. Shane can stay human-passing without much of a thought nowadays, but when Ryan’s brain overloads and his whole body is one vibrating wave of panic…





	not my fault (don't blame it on me)

Shane is, by all accounts and as far as he knows, a very good demon. He doesn’t have much in the way of comparison, of course, since most depictions of demons that he sees are the evil vaguely humanoid shadows with red eyes in horror movies, but still. He doesn’t eat anyone’s heart, he’s never possessed anyone, and he certainly doesn’t haunt people’s dreams until they’re terrified to close their eyes at night. 

So, all in all, he’s already got most movie and TV demons beat in terms of behaving himself.

It does help, he figures, that he’s not the sort of demon that _needs_ to eat people’s hearts to survive. Shane can consist quite happily on Chipotle and popcorn and have zero problems aside from the pesky kernels that occasionally get superglued to his teeth. But, and he’ll admit it to himself, that’s not _all_ he needs to survive. He doesn’t need to eat flesh or blood or anything like that, his sustenance isn’t something that a human would die without.

Shane is a demon that devours fear. 

Fear is easy to come by, so he’s never really had any scares of not getting enough to eat. When he gets desperate--which he did a few times during college when there weren’t any finals upcoming and everyone was partying it up--he can always slink into a theater and let Hollywood’s productions feed him. Though given the state of current horror franchises, that’s less and less effective.

Which is fine. Because now he works on Unsolved with Ryan and Ryan is...a fucking smorgasbord. Ryan is like a full buffet with every option he could think of all crammed into a muscular body with a winning smile. It doesn’t matter how innocuous a place they visit or how calm Shane tries to be, Ryan’s brain will inevitably start to devour itself and Shane winds up feeling so full he sways in place on occasion.

Hell, Ryan even scares himself during some of the true crime episodes. So Shane’s literally able to eat most days of the week if he wants. 

Ryan doesn’t have a clue, obviously. Most people don’t, demons haven’t existed for this long without passing really well. He only knows of two others in the immediate area and he doesn’t interact with them very often. Andrew, a gluttony demon who feeds his own needs on every episode of Worth It, had called him out on it once when Shane walked around practically high after the Sallie House but hadn’t mentioned a word of it since. He doesn’t seem interested in outing Shane to the world, or even acknowledging that Shane really is a demon, so it’s not a high priority concern. 

And Eugene is a demon of lust who sticks to his own little group, clearly not interested in what others demons are doing while he gorges himself so Shane’s never even considered being worried about him. 

He’s free to eat his fill without his partner in crime being any the wiser. Though on nights like tonight...it’s difficult. Tests every strength he has. Shane can stay human-passing without much of a thought nowadays, but when Ryan’s brain overloads and his whole body is one vibrating wave of panic…

“Did you hear that?”

Shane presses his lips closed a little tighter, feeling the fangs press into flesh as he grunts a “no” without lifting his head off the pillow. Ryan had started the night in another room of the house and after an hour he’d barged in, tossing his sleeping bag and pillow right next to Shane and clamoring onto the bed without so much of a “hey, can I share?”

There isn’t literally anything _in_ the Lemp Mansion Ryan had decided was their next target, Shane had made sure of that when he’s stepped in. Remnants of memories, maybe, the air charged with the tragedies that occurred, but no ghosts. No demons.

Other than him, of course. 

But Shane’s never been able to convince Ryan of that in any house they’ve ever visited and he’s not about to start now. 

“I swear to god I heard something. Sounded like a thump.”

“Yes, it’s old. The house will thump.” Shane buries his face in his pillow as Ryan huddles ever closer, their thighs brushing. “If you hear a gunshot, then wake me up. _That’s_ worth investigating.”

“Shut up, Shane.” comes the immediate response as Ryan flops onto his back, stretching out almost indignantly next to him.

It’s a very good thing that Shane is face down in the bed. His cock has been hard ever since Ryan and that gorgeous scent of fear came barging in and he doesn’t want to have to explain the tent to his best friend right now. 

God, not even the overwhelming scent of fabric softener he uses on his pillows or Ryan’s bodywash can cover the smell. Ryan’s fear doesn’t smell like fear that Shane has ever experienced before. Maybe it’s because Ryan is strung so tightly that the scent of true fear is so powerful over the constant lingering smell of anxiety. 

He smells like a fresh water cave when he’s scared. Something dark and enclosed, the perfect place to hide if Shane was the type of demon who squatted in caves instead of his nice little cozy apartment. Maybe it’s something in his bloodline that attracts him to it, like way back when his ancestors used to be those cave-dwellers who preyed on unsuspecting spelunkers.

“Dude, there it is again!”

“The only thing you hear,” Shane says patiently, trying not to lisp around the sharp points that are threatening to slice open his bottom lip, “is me mentally telling you to shut the fuck up. I’m projecting so hard it’s become reality. Put _that_ in the Unsolved episode.”

“I think it’s coming from the Brewery downstairs. Come on.”

“Come on, nothing.” Shane stubbornly shakes off Ryan’s grasping hand on his shoulder. “I would like to sleep more than fifteen minutes.”

Ryan blows out a frustrated breath and sits up, drumming his fingers on his thigh for a long moment. Finally, his fear spikes and Shane has to inhale slowly, giving up the ghost on sleeping as he lifts his head. The room is dark enough he’s not worried about Ryan seeing anything, though he’s careful to keep his face turned away from the night-vision static cam at the end of the bed. 

“If I go with you, will you leave me alone?”

“Yes.” Ryan says immediately, all but jumping from the bed and shoving his feet into his shoes. “Absolutely. Not a peep. Let’s go.”

It takes them longer to get down into the basement brewery than Ryan would probably like, but Shane’s not going to apologize for it. Or for the fact that he refused to strap the go-pro onto his chest. Ryan has a camera in his hand, that’ll be good enough, and Shane is honestly very tired and would rather be unconscious than treking in between old brewing barrels that make his nose itch. 

A good meal will exhausted a person, so he’s learned. And Shane’s teetering on the edge of eating far too much of Ryan’s fear at this point. 

He has to, though. In cases like this. After the Sallie House, Shane learned that without him siphoning off Ryan’s fear, swallowing it down inside and letting it sink into his blood, Ryan is liable to have a legitimate panic attack. And the remnants linger afterwards, nightmares and terror haunting his steps until Shane can eat enough of it away. 

“Hello?” Ryan calls into the darkness, sweeping his flashlight ahead of him. “Is there someone down here? My name is Ryan and this is Shane. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“We are the same assholes who were here earlier.” Shane helpfully points out as Ryan spins to hiss at him. “If you remember--I don’t know if ghosts have memories--I was the one who told you that you were cowards who made shit beer.”

“Shane!” Ryan is practically bouncing in place, “would you shut the fuck up before you get us both killed?”

“If being dead means I get a good night’s rest, then hey.” Shane spreads his arms wide. “Come at me, ghosts! Rip my heart out! Tear my spine from my body!”

“I’m going over here so that when they _do_ kill you, I don’t have to watch.”

Ryan stomps off, leaving Shane rolling his eyes in the dark that comes without Ryan’s flashlight. He can see perfectly in the dark, of course, but he pulls his own light from his pocket and switches it on. No reason for suspicion. He can hear Ryan traipsing around, could probably track the smell of him like a bloodhound. 

It’s so thick. So heady. And it’s bouncing off the metal, not penetrating like it would into wood or plastic. Shane feels a bit drunk on it, worse than when Ryan was next to him in bed, and he allows himself a moment to just...feel. Lets his body go loose, swaying in place as he inhales lungful after lungful of Ryan’s terror. His cock immediately perks back up again, taking the pleasure of his mind as pleasure of the body, and Shane lets his mouth drop open as he cautiously palms a hand over himself.

First chance he gets, he’s going to escape into the bathroom and jerk off. 

Ryan’s yelp breaks into his consciousness and the spike of fear that emanates is so sharp, so pointed, Shane feels his cock throb in response. He re-arranges himself as best he can as Ryan begins to call out for him, voice strung tight and high, and rounds the corner just as Ryan’s flashlight beams hit him in the face.

“I swear to fucking god I just hear someone else walking around in here. Were you walking around?”

“I was standing in one place listening to you lose your mind.” Shane answers honestly, back to curling his lips around his fangs. 

“I swear, dude. It was plain as day just--” Ryan’s chest heaves as he scrubs a hand down over his face. “I think I’m losing it.”

He is. The fear is so heavy in the air that Shane is hunched a bit, hoping his sleep shirt hangs down low enough to cover the way his cock is stretching out his joggers. Ryan is now just a tuning fork of distress and Shane feels himself being pulled towards the meal like someone in those old timey cartoons drifting along after the wafting fog of fresh food. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Shane advances and Ryan, so horrified they’re not going to be able to use the footage because the camera is shaking in his grip at his side, lets himself be backed up. 

Backed up until his back hits the wall of the basement and Shane is towering over him, blocking out everything else from his vision. Ryan’s pupils are huge, inky pools that glimmer even in the darkness, and Shane can’t resist reaching out to stroke a hand down his bicep. 

“You’re okay. Look, it’s late. You’re tired. It’s dark as Satan’s asshole down here. Your brain is just playing tricks on itself.”

“I dunno, I dunno, I swear that I--”

Critical levels here. Ryan’s going to shake himself out of his own skin here soon. And Shane is going to wind up getting sick from inadvertent feeding. Even now, he is subconsciously siphoning off bits, snipping little pieces of thread from the tangled ball of panic that’s churning inside Ryan’s brain. 

And the _scent_.

“Ryan.” Shane takes a chance and cups his face, thumbs tucked onto Ryan’s cheeks and fingers around his jaw. “Look at me. Relax and breathe. You’re okay.”

It almost works. Works for a split second, Ryan’s body swaying into the touch and his eyes drifting shut ever so slightly. 

And then there’s a creak from somewhere else in the basement, somewhere behind Shane. The house settling into itself in the cold. Probably a heater kicking on somewhere else and causing a chain reaction. 

And Ryan’s fear spikes so harshly that Shane groans without thinking about it, head lowering as Ryan’s body goes tight, jaw clenching up under his fingers. 

“I heard--I heard--”

“Close your eyes.” Shane shakes Ryan a little when the words don’t register, dragging his wide-eyed gaze back by force. 

It feels like he’s slurring his words. Drunk off the smell of fear. Shane takes another step closer, eats just a bit more, drags Ryan’s terror into his gut and lets it warm him from the inside out. 

“Just focus on me. Relax. Close your eyes. I can fix this.”

“Wha--” Ryan doesn’t finish the word, but he obeys. Lashes resting against his cheeks as his eyes close and his body moves closer, like he wants to be right next to Shane in this weakened state. 

He smells like darkness and safety and spring water and Shane is going to regret this in the morning. They both are. But this is...without it...and really, how can he resist?

Shane uses his grip to tip Ryan’s head up and back, to the side just enough to bare the pounding pulse tucked under the line of his jaw. Hands encircle his wrists and Ryan makes a soft noise of protest, but doesn’t open his eyes or shake the touch away.

The clack of the camera and flashlight hitting the ground is worrisome but Shane’s never been less concerned about equipment in all his years. 

This is...dangerous. Shane has only done this a handful of times before in his life. Biting into someone and eating their emotions that way is more effective but it’s also more dangerous. Far more telling than devouring energy. Even if his saliva heals the way it’s supposed to, Ryan is still going to have a hell of a hickey tomorrow that he’s going to demand answers for.

But he smells so fucking good. And it’s dark and silent and it’s just the two of them. 

Shane can edit the footage in the morning. Take the camera and delete it. Tell everyone that it was too dark and that he didn’t want to embarass Ryan by showing their fans how close he came to pissing himself with fear. 

Ryan jerks a little when Shane bites down, hands flexing and fingers digging in. There’s a breath that might be a word, could just be an alarmed murmur of his name. But Shane can’t possibly begin to understand it over the rush of blood in his ears and in his mouth.

Higher heartrate, more bloodflow. Ryan’s practically gushing into his mouth even though Shane was careful not to knick his artery. He tastes better than he smells by miles and miles. Like the sunrise in the forest. Earthy and real and purely sweet in a way no candy could ever compare to.

“S-Shane?”

Shane grunts and buries deeper into Ryan’s throat, swallowing down fear and blood as one. It’s whirling inside his gut, a maelstrom of terror that feels like he just finished eating Thanksgiving dinner. Ryan’s fingers shake in his peripheral as he lets go of Shane’s wrists and reaches for his shoulders, holding on and even tugging him closer as Shane makes a rumbling noise of pleasure.

Ryan is...hard. Hard against the thigh that Shane shoves between his legs. A bulge that presses into Shane’s skin like a brand and has him nearly choking on the next swallow.

“S’okay, big guy.” Ryan must feel the tension and he pats at Shane’s shoulders uselessly. “I don’t know what--do whatever. Do what you need.”

“Ryan.” Shane moans into the curve of his neck, licking over the blood that lingers on his fangs and trying to ignore the urge to bite down again. “God, I’m sorry--I just--you were--”

Ryan wraps his arms around him, best he can without going up onto his tip-toes, and rolls his hips in response. Grinds his cock into Shane’s leg and shivers under the hold Shane still has on him. 

“Regret it in the morning?” Ryan offers shakily in his ear, scent changing in a way that has Shane bucking back, pinning him into the wall with his body. 

Lust and fear are a combination that most wouldn’t find attractive. It’s like cold dark meeting soft warmth. Like a blanket on concrete. But Shane’s so high on the experience that he couldn’t give a shit less.

There’s a flurry of hands the second Shane lets go to reach down between them, Ryan trying to help and both of them getting nowhere for a long moment. Shane doesn’t know if he should try to get Ryan’s pants down or his own, fingers feeling a bit numb. Finally though, his pants and underwear are shoved down around his knees and the next time he leans into Ryan’s weight, his cock meets bare skin instead of cloth. 

“Fuck.” The word bursts from Ryan’s lips as his fingers catch hold in Shane’s shirt again, dragging him in until they’re occupying the same space, sharing the air. “C’mon. Yeah. Just do--whatever you need.”

Shane knows the snarl that slips free scares Ryan. Can smell the uptick of alarm in his scent. But he doesn’t bother hiding it or apologizing, gripping Ryan’s face a little too hard when he grabs hold to tip his head to the other side. 

Fresh unmarked skin. Terror brimming just under the surface. 

He bites down harder this time, blood pooling around his mouth and probably staining the hell out of Ryan’s shirt as it drips. His hips move without him thinking about it, shoving into the warmth of Ryan’s body. Ryan’s giving as good as he gets, though he doesn’t have much in the way of motion since Shane is practically plastering him to the wall. 

It doesn’t take long to make Ryan come. The fear and lust are coiling tight in his body and with Shane amping one up and draining the other out, it’s almost embarrassing how fast it happens. Ryan clutches at him, breathes his name into his ear so sweetly Shane’s jaw flexes and rewards him with another gush of blood. His movements are erratic for a long moment, hands pulling Shane closer as he grinds into his thigh, grip relaxing and tightening.

And then there’s a long sigh and spurts on wet onto his skin. 

The rush of endorphins that enters the blood once it’s done is enough for Shane to go over too. He yanks his mouth away, nuzzles the skin instead of biting as he shakes through his orgasm, Ryan’s name a mantra on his lips that he’s not even sure is actually audible. 

In the aftermath, they both slowly grow still. Chests that were once heaving for breath still, barely moving. Shane draws back slowly, giving Ryan time and space to bolt if he needs to. Neither of them meet each other’s eyes as they fix their clothes best they can, Shane twisting up his mouth in disgust as his own come and Ryan’s smears unpleasantly once the pants are back in place.

_Regret it in the morning._

Will Ryan regret it? Or will he never speak to Shane again? There’s a difference in “oops, I let my best friend get me off” and “my best friend is a blood sucking demon who bit me twice in the dark basement of a suicide house.”

“So.” Ryan rubs his hands over his thighs, gaze darting around Shane’s body and never quite reaching his face. “That was...uh...yeah.”

“Yeah.” Shane echoes. “Sorry. I got caught up and--”

“Are you gonna throw up or something?”

The question, so even and nonchalant, puts Shane off balance. Rips his eyes off where Ryan’s picking at a loose thread on the bottom of his shirt and up to where Ryan’s now looking directly at him.

“I...what? Because of the blood or--”

“Dude, you probably just crammed like...three taco packs worth of fear into yourself.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest. “Even for something like you, there’s gotta be a limit.”

“Something like--” 

It feels like he got hit over the head. Shane’s still reeling from his orgasm and the blood and the feeding and he could be hearing things. He could be hallucinating this whole thing. But Ryan seems real and he’s watching him with furrowed brows, one arm reached out like he thinks Shane is about to go over. 

Which--valid.

“Did you...you knew?!” 

“I had suspicions. And Google is, surprisingly, helpful once you get past all the bullshit.” Ryan pats at his arm. “I don’t know specifics or anything but I can be fucking terrified and you get all zoned out and weirdly intense for a bit and then I’m not so scared. It’s not like...a huge leap in thinking.”

“I don’t _zone out_.” Shane defends hotly because _that’s_ what his brain is latching onto in the midst of all this bullshit. 

“Look.” Ryan rubs a hand over his hair then winces, fingers dragging down to brush against his neck. “We can talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I wanna get the fuck out of his basement and sleep for like...six days.”

Shane winces.

“I might’ve taken too much. Sorry, I haven’t done...that...for a long time.”

“Glad to see I could break the dry spell.” Ryan responds flippantly, before bending slightly and straightening, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Oooh. Nope. Not gonna do that. Get the camera and light and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Shane waits until they’re back in the room, Ryan leaning his weight into the sink and looking at the bruises on his throat that are only going to get darker as time goes by. He fidgets in the doorway until Ryan looks over through the mirror, fingers still on the marks. 

“What?”

“Are we still...are we okay?” Shane asks, picking his words carefully.

Though Shane feels like he’d be perfectly justified in begging to know if they’re still friends after a very weird grinding session at two in the morning. 

Ryan’s face does something complicated and soft. He turns, braces a hip against the sink because he’s still unsteady on his feet. His scent is something Shane has never smelled before, not directed at him, at least. It’s like cotton sheets fresh out of the wash.

“Yeah.” He says softly, reaching out until Shane comes close enough for him to press a kiss to the very corner of his mouth. “We’re good, big guy. Better than ever.”

Shane can’t help but move in for a kiss, frowning and then scowling when Ryan dodges it faster than he should be able to when he’s post-orgasm and hit with blood loss. 

“You just said--”

“Brush your teeth, Bloodsquatch, and then we’ll talk about kissing.”

Well. Fine. Small price to pay for the most satisfied Shane’s ever been in his life. And for the way Ryan’s whole face crinkles up in joy when he grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Kinktober commission on the books! I hope you guys enjoyed!


End file.
